


Murder Club of Aoyama-Itchome

by MeltyRum



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyRum/pseuds/MeltyRum
Summary: Makoto and Haru consider building an army.
Kudos: 4
Collections: Generic Roleplay Fantasy





	Murder Club of Aoyama-Itchome

Makoto let out a deep sigh, regarding the door to her brother’s room with some apprehension. It was too late to back out now, that was for sure—especially when she had gone to the trouble of having Haru’s retainer schedule this meeting. She wondered if they would take her seriously; she hadn’t exactly spent a long time drafting a budget and plans, partly because she wasn’t sure Goro and Haru would go in for her ideas and partly because she didn’t exactly know where to start when it came to this sort of thing. Assuming it had the approval of leadership, hopefully they would be able appoint people to help “workshop” her proposal.

She thought briefly of Akira. His assistance would be nearly ideal, but Makoto doubted she would be able to get him into court, even if Goro somehow liked the idea of a pauper and criminal assisting in matters of state. It certainly wouldn’t be his first visit to the place, of course.

With one more breath, Makoto gave the door an imperious knock, not wanting to start the evening on a note of meekness.

It was only seconds before Ritsuka came to the door, giving her a brief bow of his head. “They’re both inside. I’ll wait out here while you talk,” he said, smoothly trading places with and shutting the door behind her.

She was a little intimidated to find Haru’s and Goro’s eyes on her, already seated with a tea set between them. On top of that, she realized this was her first time in their marital chambers, which added a sense of danger that she hadn’t accounted for. Even knowing about their arrangement with Ann, there was something menacing about seeing their bed—as though the sight of it made the marriage even more real than their wedding day had. Couple this with the picture of the two of them sitting officiously at their table, and suddenly her distant half-brother felt like he was even farther away than before.

The tension broke a little when Haru’s face changed to an awkward smile. “No need to stand there, Makoto. You should come and sit!” She gestured to the open chair, inviting Makoto to come forward and deciding to busy herself with the tea set, pouring everyone something to drink.

“Right. My apologies, your grace,” she replied stiffly, trying to return the smile as she took her seat.

“I think Haru meant you’re being a little too formal. You _are_ ‘our’ sister, so there’s no need to act otherwise—certainly not when we’re behind closed doors like this.” Goro chuckled, sitting up in his chair and wearing a noticeably practiced smile. “If you act like that, it’ll make me a little bit nervous as well.”

“Yes. Even going so far as to make an appointment through my retainer… I think your privileges are high enough above that, even if we disregard your heritage,” Haru added, smiling.

Makoto nodded. “I understand what you mean. I suppose… I thought of it as my coming here not as your sister, but as a member of court—as someone with administrative responsibilities, considering my station.”

Haru and Goro exchanged a meaningful look.

“Very well, then,” he said. “But we can still dispense with ceremony, sister. What, exactly, brings you before us?”

She nodded once more, trying to make it look reassuring. “What I have for you both is a proposal. Given that you are the rulers here, I will let you judge whether what I suggest is reasonable or not. I know we tend toward peace and our martial defenses tend to remain an afterthought, thanks to being Alexandria’s protectorate, but after considering the greater political climate that Ibuya is involved in…” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I think we require a regular standing army: something that can defend from invasions and—if required—also act in aggression.”

Makoto chose to stop there, looking to each of the others in order to try and read the reactions on their faces, before deciding to press on since neither of them seemed to want to speak up just yet.

“There is a war on, and Alexandria’s footing in our particular region is—to put it charitably—dubious. If another nation attacked us, I don’t believe we could count on Emperor Iskandar to assist us. Case in point: many of the nations and city-states near us have successfully fragmented from Alexandrian control, not to mention the way they’ve begun dividing up Nihon. If Alexandria was in a position to pacify these groups, it would have already done so. They exert practically no control over us, so it would be foolish to expect any different for others in the region. In a way, we’re lucky that Ibuya is poor and insignificant in comparison to Nihon, or else we may have already been a target. That said, we _do_ prosper, on the whole, and I wonder if that won’t turn some heads in the next few years.”

Akechi, with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty on his face, distracted himself by reaching for his teacup, holding it in both hands as he pondered her words through the surface of his beverage. “It seems as though you’ve given it quite some thought,” he said, before having a brief sip. “And I can’t say I disagree with your assessment, but have you drafted any sort of plan for assembling a military?”

“Nothing formal,” she admitted with a firm nod, making sure her voice exhibited more confidence than she felt. “But martial pursuits have been an interest of mine for some time, so I will not mind shouldering as much of the work as is necessary.”

“I don’t mean to sound negative toward the idea, but if we’re talking about an army, where will these soldiers come from, Makoto?” asked Haru, giving her a thoughtful look.

“Ibuya has the population to support a professional military. That is what I believe,” replied Makoto, shifting her gaze to meet Haru’s. “Our family has grown rich on taxation over the years—our coffers are practically full, even if the citizenry are only recently reaping the bounty collected from them. I think there are many people who will need gainful employment, and not everyone in the state is in a practical position get goods from Ann, jobs or not. A military—in addition to strengthening us—could provide for these people.”

“One moment,” Akechi interjected, setting his cup back down and leaning forward in his seat. “Before you go any further, I feel I should remind you that the policies of our country makes this a little more complicated than you are suggesting. There are two other ruling families in Ibuya, and we could not—as a nation—muster an army if anyone on the council dislikes the idea.”

“Then if they can’t be convinced, we bolster our own strength,” she said with a shrug. “But I have the feeling they could be won over, as long as there’s any chance that you see sense in my arguments so far.”

Another exchange of looks between the royal pair, as though they were each silently trying to gauge whether the other was being swayed. _Was_ there any sense? their eyes asked.

“It is true that these are turbulent times,” Akechi conceded eventually, letting out a shallow sigh as he looked back down to the table, apparently half-lost in thought. “But I also do not wish to draw attention to our nation by swelling it with soldiers. Not to mention that soldiers must have somewhere to go, something to do. Even with no campaign underway, a professional army requires quite a lot: pay, food, etcetera. If a united Ibuyan military spends its time idling—as there are no _immediate_ threats in consideration—I am not sure it is something we could maintain without also reaping the benefits of war; so long as we are not attacked, that would mean invading our neighbors.”

“Which is not something we want to do. There isn’t much reason to initiate conflict,” added Haru.

“Right,” said a relieved Akechi, nodding in agreement. “But I also agree that it would be prudent to shore up our defenses. Makoto has a point: if we found ourselves attacked _first—_ with no Alexandrian aid to depend upon—it would almost certainly be a disaster for the entire country.”

“Maybe we can start small, then,” Haru suggested, turning to Makoto. “You said we could bolster our own strength. And—as you said—we have our own citizenry and taxation revenue. But… I’m not sure who is appropriate for raising and training such an army.”

“I know some people,” said Makoto, half-bluffing. Naturally, she had learned all her equestrian and soldierly knowledge from the people Shido had installed here or there, but she would be hard-pressed to look to any of them as military geniuses. “And I would like to assume as much responsibility for this as you will allow. The only thing I require in order to move forward is the blessing… and the treasury… of the Chief Councilor.”

Akechi smiled thinly, as though aware of his being placed back into the center of attention. “Your request seems sound, considering the geopolitical circumstances we find ourselves in. But why are you so interested, Makoto? This doesn’t seem like an issue that would be within the purview of the Chief Councilor’s sister.”

Makoto sat back in her chair at that question, looking down at her untouched tea. She had been expecting this question, but still hadn’t quite formulated a satisfactory answer, hating that every explanation which came to mind made her feel like a child. She practically _was_ a child, even if she was a woman grown. She spoke of assembling a military when she had no _real_ fighting experience to speak of, even if she considered herself thoroughly trained. Not to mention: riding around and recklessly swinging a sword were one thing, where commanding an army was another thing altogether: there were only so many books you could read, and Makoto got the sickly feeling that none of them truly prepared a tactician for the melee of the battlefield.

“I suppose the problem is that I don’t feel that I have any purview—any responsibilities—at all,” she confessed. “But I am your age, am I not? And even if my father’s rule left something to be desired, now that he has… tragically passed the torch, if you will, it stands to reason that I should bear some of the burden our country carries. And to be honest, I feel a greater affinity for militaristic pursuits than I do to courtly duties or to political marriage—a quality I know I have in common with the both of you. And this is an area to which I would be able to apply my knowledge and my interests. So: please allow me to do what I can to strengthen our country and to assist your rule.”

“You’ve got a way with words,” Haru mumbled, looking as though her mind was still chewing it all over. “It almost sounds like this is more of a passion project for you, though I’m not sure how much fun it will be, having to manage a military.”

“Indeed,” began Akechi, tapping the side of one finger to his chin. “But when you show so much enthusiasm for it, it becomes hard to decline. You take after your sister, I suppose— _our_ sister, rather—but she has her hands tied up in matters of jurisprudence, which isn’t all that different, when you boil it down.”

“Does that mean you accept my proposal?” asked Makoto, afraid she was about to start sweating.

“I do,” announced Haru, giving an authoritative nod.

Akechi mirrored it. “I do, as well. We’ll leave it in your hands, but you have our support.”

“Good!” said Haru, looking quite pleased with herself. “In that case, there’s just the issue of the other ruling families. I understand if you two would prefer to table it for now, but I don’t think that’s something we should ignore.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that, since Goro brought it up,” Makoto feinted, mind racing for anything that may make it easier for her to get what she wanted: not a force for protecting Akechi’s castle, but one for _all_ of Ibuya. “As I said, war surrounds us. No doubt there are emergency powers of some nature that the Chief Councilor could invoke?”

“With the agreement of our neighbors, perhaps,” agreed Haru. “I remember learning about this prior to our marriage. ‘Chief Councilor’ is largely just a title, except for the ability exert greater power with a passing vote; that’s how each city-state maintains relative independence from each other. But… Goro, you must be somewhat familiar with the situations of the other families now that you are the Chief Councilor, correct?”

“That’s correct,” he replied, looking to each of the women before him. “They are required to send me economic and legislative updates every few months. But if I understand what you’re getting at… you want me to request emergency powers from them? To assemble a nationwide army? Even with our continent embroiled in conflict, I’m not certain that is something they would agree to.”

“You could convince them, Goro,” Makoto suggested, looking him straight in the eye.

A silence descended upon the trio, the lack of sound somehow threatening in the lowering candlelight.

“She’s probably right,” said Haru eventually, turning her eyes to Akechi with a faint smile. “You likely could. And if royal spouses are welcome at these gatherings… perhaps I could help.”

“Even if they agree to the idea, they _certainly_ will disagree with allowing my younger sister to take the reins of the entire endeavor,” he pointed out. “No offense, Makoto.”

She shook her head. “No; I’m certainly no general, so that makes sense—but that just means they will have to agree to send assistance and expertise of their own: courtiers, tacticians, veterans, and the like. We can make a united army, but with its heart located _here_. If we draft a fighting force that is primarily composed of our own citizens—at least, at first—they will be more likely to agree.”

“It could be suspicious,” Akechi murmured, looking off to the side and tapping a foot thoughtfully. “We don’t want them to believe we’re plotting to take total control of Ibuya.”

Makoto looked guiltily off to the floor. To be honest, _that_ possibility had crossed her mind, too. No strategist would ignore the idea: it would be much more safe and advantageous to hold power over the entire nation, if such a thing ever became possible. They would be stronger as a single unified nation, not a loose collection of cities. But conquest was not Makoto’s interest, and there was no reason to go to war with the rest of the council—even if they were somehow victorious, it would leave a bad taste in her mouth. If Akechi were to lead the entire country, she would prefer if he got there by more peaceful means.

“That is why we involve them in the process,” Makoto reiterated. “They send their own people, who they maintain control over. You can make it clear to them that we want this to be a _united_ army: a coalition military to serve the defensive needs of the country—and you can remind them: the world is at war, and we aren’t going to be able to stay out of it forever. Alexandria may be fragmented and Nihon might be reeling, but there is still strength in each of them, with our nation still snug right between the two of them.

“Not to mention the gaggle of city-states surrounding us, some of which have regained their independence from Alexandria, albeit a bit forcefully. And, to be honest…” she trailed off, wondering if she could really give voice to such seditious thoughts.

“You think Ibuya should do the same,” guessed Haru, who waited for Makoto to meet her eyes before continuing. “I am not in favor of rebellion, but I _do_ agree it would make sense to ensure the country is prepared for such an eventuality—should it come to pass.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Makoto, her relief palpable. “I’m glad you understand. Do you agree, Goro?”

He uttered a nervous chuckle, crossing his arms. “You put me on the spot again. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what I think. A stronger, safer Ibuya is in our best interests regardless of independence—something that is nowhere within our reach, at present. So… it makes sense to begin with growing our military.”

Both of the women smiled before exchanging a look. It would be insensitive to say it, but Makoto knew they were thinking the same thing: Akechi matched his role well, to be speaking so evasively.

Makoto rose to her feet, deciding she had gotten what she had came here for. “Thank you for hearing me out, you two. I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement. I’ll get started with a formal plan and bring it to your attention, Goro.”

“Actually, I think I would like to help handle this one,” Haru interjected, turning to address Akechi. “I have relatively fewer matters to attend to when it comes to management of state, so I believe I should help Makoto with this—and it will be easier for me to deliver reports to you.” She looked back to Makoto. “Does that seem reasonable?”

Mildly taken aback—but not in an entirely unpleasant way—Makoto momentarily struggled to find the words with which to respond. “Er, yes. If our Chief Councilor accepts it, then I am certainly in no position to protest,” she said with a smile.

After she had been dismissed, she allowed herself to relax just a little, giving Ritsuka a friendly nod as she left the room and quickly pacing away, hoping that her nerves would calm down in proportion with the distance she could place between herself and the royal chambers.

It had gone easier than she had hoped; while she had _some_ confidence in her ability to put forth a convincing request, she had still half-expected to be turned away after a good-natured chuckle from Goro. He was the type who had typically already thought of everything, so it was mildly surprising that he hadn’t been prepared to dismiss, to affirm, or even to discuss the proposal of swelling their military ranks. Perhaps the administrative responsibilities he had inherited from Shido were weighing on him more heavily than he showed; indeed, Shido himself had probably not done a proper job of grooming his bastard for the role.

Makoto tried to read the feeling in her chest, unable to discern if it was satisfaction or dread. It was exhilarating to realize that she would be leading the efforts toward establishing a proper military, but she knew that it was a dangerous world she had wandered into—one in which she had no practical experience outside of what—she was certain—the professionals might refer to as some light recreational exercises. But she _knew_ that this was the realm she belonged in. Even if she was a woman who sought peace and prosperity above all, the hot-blooded allure of combat and the intrigue of large-scale tactical decision-making made the military feel like a place she could settle comfortably into.

Hopefully she wasn’t in for a rude awakening, she thought. The battlefield wasn’t all gleaming armor and contests of honor, after all. As Akechi alluded to, an army needed something to _do_. When they didn’t—or when control could not be exerted upon them—they tended toward activity which might generously be referred to as “mischief”. At a less macroscopic level, this could already be observed in the guards which Shido already employed, some of whom were obviously corruptible and inefficient—but Makoto would make sure she had a hand in molding that division, as well, if she could help it.

Oh, well, she thought. Until the world moved on to fighting proxy wars via magical constructs, that was just the way things would have to be.

When she arrived at the study off of the main hall, she collapsed into one of the waiting seats, letting her fingers trace the grain of the wood, the feel of it helping to bring her back to the present. Even if experiential knowledge was what she needed most, more traditional research was the only way she could move forward, at present.

As she pulled more books from the shelves, she thought again of Akira. She hoped they would be able to work together in the future; if nothing else, she hoped that she was headed in the right direction for ensuring they lived in a country where his rebellious habits would be unnecessary.


End file.
